


Birthday Surprise

by TheHuggamugCafe



Series: A Mother’s Birthday [2]
Category: Code: Realize, Persona 5
Genre: Child!OCs, F/M, Family Bonding, Fluff, Knuckle kisses, Persona 5/Code: Realize AU, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, True Ending, birthday surprise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:33:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23586928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheHuggamugCafe/pseuds/TheHuggamugCafe
Summary: A surprise is what your children had in mind. It doesn’t go as planned, but ends in a way they hoped.
Relationships: Arsène Lupin/Reader
Series: A Mother’s Birthday [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1697893
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20





	Birthday Surprise

**Author's Note:**

> There isn’t enough Persona 5 crossovers featuring Code: Realize. I’m here to change that, little by little.
> 
> Reader getting the last laugh on this dorky gentleman is always fun~.

The smoke detector going off was what made your eyes shoot open, pushing yourself up to grasp the arm of your husband’s arm, shaking it harshly. “Arsène? Arsène! Get up! The smoke detector’s blaring!” His eyes flew open, wide but alert. The covers were tossed off of him as you threw your feet over the edge of the bed, stuffing your feet into slippers as your spouse threw on a house robe. Neither you nor he wasted any time in exiting the bedroom, walking the short hallway, and descending the stairs, taking a sharp right into the open entryway of the kitchen that was adjoined to the dining room.

The sight that greeted you and Arsène when you both reached the kitchen was a scene of chaos. Smoke billowed up from the frying pan on the oven; a light haze of grey smog lingered in the air, making your eyes water. An egg carton lied on the counter top, along with other utensils for cooking: a mixing bowl, a spatula, a container of pancake mix, and a tub of butter. Splatters of what you could only assume was food at one point was stuck to the stove, coated the counter, and was smeared on the kitchen floor.

“Curtis, you’re _still_ at that? Come help me! The pancakes aren’t gonna fry themselves!” “I’m busy squeezing these oranges, Mr. Perfect! Chloé, how’s the toast and tea coming along?” Dimitri asked, pointing a warm amber-eyed stare on his and his brother’s sibling. “One moment!” The lone girl of the triplets stood in front of the toaster and kettle. The slices of toast popped up, burnt at the edges. The eight-year-old’s large eyes drooped, huffing. Her tiny fingers gripped the hot slices, regretting that decision when she hissed in discomfort. “Ow!” “Hurry, hurry! Before we wake them up! Curtis, can’t you be any faster—oh no!”

It was the smoke thickening from the frying pan, the scent of sizzling butter starting to smell like burning oil, and the frustrated grumbling from Chloé as she filled your favourite mug with too much hot water, that snapped you and Arsène out of your stupors. “What’s going on here?” you asked, earning surprised looks from the three children: Dimitri, Chloé, and Curtis. “Mommy! Daddy! Good morning—ah!” The eight-year-old girl let out a yelp as hot water sloshed over the mug’s rim, splashing over her knuckles. Arsène shared a look with you, earning a resolute nod as you rolled up the sleeves of your pyjama top. “Alright, let’s get started.”

It was an hour later, nine o’clock, when the kitchen was back to normal. No indistinguishable splatters could be seen on the wall, counter, or stove. No smell of burnt toast, pancake batter, or scrambled eggs that were a little _too_ well-done. The burners were turned off; the dishes were washed and dried; the ruined food was deposited into the trash bin. The kitchen window had been opened, to air out the eye-watering stench of smog as the smoke detector was silenced. You pressed a kiss to Chloé’s knuckles, sporting a Feather Pink band-aid after running the cold water tap on her knuckles for a minute, smiling at her as you wrapped her in a hug. A hug that she returned, eagerly, grinning a tooth-filled smile that proudly showed a missing tooth on the lower set. “There. Feel better, honey?” “It stings a bit, but it’s fine. Thank you, Mommy!”

“We’re not mad.” Arsène was the first to break the uneasy silence, pausing only to spare you a glance as Chloé was set down to stand at her brothers’ side; his amber stare flicked from the two boys and the lone girl, faces downcast, pointing their eyes down at the tile floor. “Now, what was so important that you couldn’t ask us for help?” The oldest of the trio, Dimitri, was the first to break the silence. “We just wanted to surprise you with breakfast this morning, Mom.” “Why, sweetie?”

Your answer came in the form of Curtis walking over to where the calendar was pinned: on the cork board. He stood on a small stool, taking it down and walking back to where you stood with Arsène. He held it up, pointing to today’s date with a stubby finger. There, in red ink, was a circle bearing the words “Mom’s birthday” in child-like letters.

 _Oh. **That** explains it. It’s my birthday. They wanted to surprise me; they were too proud to ask for help because it might spoil the breakfast they tried to cook._ “Oh, honey,” you murmured, feeling the sting of tears biting at your vision; wet warmth trailed down your cheeks. “Mommy, are you okay? Now look what you did, Curtis! You made Mommy cry! Say sorry—” You cut Chloé off with a gentle smile and a laugh. “No, sweetie.” You raised a hand, wiping away the tears. “I’m not crying because I’m sad; I’m crying because I’m happy. You didn’t have to go to this trouble for me. You three could have gotten hurt.”

Arsène’s smile didn’t let up, even as the triplets shared a guilty look with each other, murmuring words of apology. “Now, now, my dear rose, I’m sure they meant well. Although,” he stopped, pointing a glance between the trio of eight-year-old children, “your mother has a point. It’s alright to ask for help. Next time, we’ll surprise her together, won’t we?” Dimitri, Curtis, and Chloé looked up; two pairs of amber eyes, and a single set of irises that were shaded so much like yours, met your spouse’s gaze. “Mhm!” The triplets were totally in sync down to their beaming smiles, their bright eyes, and their happy nods.

“That’s the spirit.” Arsène chuckled while you spared a quick glance at the clock. “Well, since it’s still early enough for breakfast, how about we all go out to eat today? How does a pancake house sound? Daddy’s buying!” “Wh—” Arsène’s baffled look was priceless, looking at you with wide eyes and jaw hanging open. A chorus of excited yells and eager hopping came from the children, giggling as you shooed them upstairs. “Go on now, get ready. Mommy and Daddy will be right upstairs.” “Pancakes, here we come!” Dimitri’s shout was bolstered by his brother and sister’s jovial cries, three sets of little feet thumping up the stairs before, finally, two bedroom doors slammed shut.

Arsène shot you a questioning look, a brow quirked and a light frown pursing his lips, but the amused glint in his amber leer betrayed him. “May I ask why it’s on me today?” “Because it’s my birthday~,” you cooed, batting your eyes as Arsène took possession of your hand in his. It, your hand, was raised to his mouth, pressing a kiss that was as light as a feather to your knuckles. “A fair point. What sort of gentleman would I be if I didn’t treat my wonderful wife and beautiful children to breakfast, and on a day as lovely as today?”

You smiled as Arsène raised his free hand, blessing your crown with a ghostly waltz of fingers. “Happy birthday, my dear rose.”


End file.
